The Unsung Heroes
by Soter
Summary: Renown author Christoph Sokol is looking to write a tribute to the "Ghosts of Razgriz," who had saved his home town during the war. However, Sokol is a man who is not as he seems. Once he was known as Alex Stark. He more than anyone on earth knows the tale, since he played a central role in it. Now, a ghost from the past is at his door, he must relive the events of that unsung war.
1. Chapter 1

_Greetings dear reader,_

_After a long "exile," I am making my return (maybe). I haven't decided if I will revisit any of my old stories, though "The Saga Ends" may finally be restarted or rebooted. (Anything to keep the Pre-Sequel Trilogy "Expanded Universe" alive in the hearts and minds of nerds worldwide.) However, to help with getting my writing style "live" again, and to get into the "zone" of a particular genre, I starting a new story. Don't be surprised if I fall off the face of the earth again._

_Soter_

* * *

_It goes without saying that I do not own the rights to the wonderful game "Ace Combat 5." This is purely a work of fiction and just for fun. I do own a copy of the game, but my controller is dead, so I cannot play. I hope to rectify that soon._

* * *

The Unsung Heroes

~ A tale of the Razgirz ~

By Christoph Sokol

The cursor blinks defiantly at him. After nearly six months of notes, research, digging, and nightmares, he had enough material to complete the story.

Only to have writer's block to set in.

"It shouldn't be this difficult," he tells the computer screen. "It's not like I'm making this up from my own imagination."

Sokol leans back, running his fingers through his cropped brown hair. He stares up at the ceiling. Almost half a year it took him to find everything he needed, and most of it was half a world away and labeled "top secret." His grey eyes narrow, remembering the two hour "explanation" some pencil pushing intel officer in Oured had given him. He also remembered the shock when the clerk heard the authorization code. Two large file boxes arrived the next day, with a polite note of apology from the captain's superior.

A soft sound behind him causes him to stops his record player on the wall shelf to his back. He had found the old musical device abandoned in the apartment when the superintendent showed him the place. The man had apologized profusely, of course, but Sokol was anything but upset by the dilapidated device. In fact, he chose to keep it and restore it.

Sokol glances about his apartment as his hand drifts to under the desk. To his right, the kitchen is empty, as is the small living space to his left. The hallway that connects the living room to the bedroom looks empty as well. There appears to be nothing on the third story balcony behind the the translucent white curtains. Leaning around the corner to his left, he glances at the doorway. No one stands there. All is quiet.

Shrugging, he starts the record player back up and returns to his staring contest with the cursor.

The sound of soft knocking on his front door echoes in his ears again.

Standing up in a huff, he storms out from behind the desk, around the corner, and straight at the door. His target is in sight when another soft knock erupted. Placing one hand on the doorknob, and the other next to his belt, he takes a quick breath and pauses for a heartbeat.

He pulls the blue painted wooden door open, surprising the interrupting individual on the other side.

It wasn't Dmitri, the superintendent, Gregory, the annoying kid who lived next door, or Shmuel, the elderly gentleman downstairs who complained his bedroom ceiling leaked whenever anyone turned on the water. Standing before Sokol is a young woman. She is about his age, but looks younger with her short black hair and midnight blue eyes. She wears a leather jacket with a few worn patches on the arms and a pleated skirt that ends just above her knee. At her feet is a simple green duffle bag. In her hands she holds a book with repaired red binding.

"Hi, Alex."


	2. Chapter 2

"Kei."

He stood there, one hand resting on his concealed handgun, the other gripping the doorknob tight so as not to fall over.

"Alexander Stark, I have not traveled nearly two thousand miles to stand at your door and have you stare at me like a dumbstruck school boy."

Alex lets go of the door, taking a step back. "I guess you want an explanation."

The smirk on Kei Nagase's face disappears. Replacing it is cool stare. The kind of look Alex had imagined was more at home behind a life support mask for times when on the tail of a fighter.

Not a look Alex ever wanted to be on the receiving end of.

Without warning, the look vanishes. "Actually, there are three things I want before you give me your explanation." Alex nods for her to continue. "First, I need to use the bathroom."

"Down the hall," Alex points.

Kei steps past him, leaving her olive drab duffle in the doorway. Alex reaches down, picking up the shapeless bag. Carefully he carries it inside, setting it in the living room. Sighing, he sits down on the couch and closes his eyes.

_The tone and frequency increased as the Tomcat slid closer to the location of the radio distress beacon. Somewhere two thousand feet below, surrounded by snow, frozen trees, and Yuke troops, was a brave, scared pilot._

_"Their firing at me!"_

_Suddenly the radio filled with static as the beacon indicator blanked out._

_"That's a jammer craft."_

_Blaze ignored Chopper's remark, spying the dark colored middleweight airframe. Pitching up, he also ignored the screech of the radar warning receiver. His RIO shouted obscenities at him as a burst of cannon fire, then a rapidly moving object, shot past the canopy. The fighter was no bigger than a Tiger, yet had strange shaped wings, jutting forward from near the tail._

_Spinning his head around, he saw the small jet blast past Chopper and Grimm. Its target was obvious: the helicopters of Sea Goblin._

_"No!" Blaze yanked the throttle back and pitched up, flipping his fighter on its back amidst the screams of overstressed metal._

_"Don't worry, we'll save your princess." In the distance, Blaze saw a green clothed figure being winched up to the helicopter. The tiny fighter spun, launching missiles. All struck the center helicopter._

_'Nagase, you fly like that and you'll die real soon.'_

_Blaze rocketed forward, intent on revenge. He could barely see the little plane through the tears. Suddenly eight missiles streaked past him._

_"Chopper! Archer! Break!"_

_His wingmen banked in opposite directions, but all eight missiles tracked Chopper's fighter. A black puff of smoke erupted around the plane._

_"I can't make it! They're running me down!" Chopper's fighter spun as it plummeted to the stadium. It struck the center of the field, as civilians scrambled to escape the incoming aircraft._

_"Captain, check six!" Blaze reacted to Grimm's command, and saw eight mottled grey fighters behind him. The double formation was escorting a large black megalith with a cruciform front. Grimm's fighter darted past before being obliterated by a brilliant flash of light from above._

_'I'm not going to lose another flight lead.'_

_Blaze turned his fighter to meet the oncoming threat; placing himself between it and the city. He armed his missiles and charged straight for the tunnel, ignoring the flak towers and rain._

_'... and then it dies.'_

_An explosion, brighter than the sun, bloomed above the city._

_"Captain!" His fighter was rocked by the shockwaves, sending its crumpled form tumbling. "Blaze!" He fought with the stick and rudder, demanding, pleading the falling plane will respond. The ground grew closer with each passing breath._

_"Alex!"_

"Alex!"

His eyes snap open. It takes only a moment to realize he's breathing heavily. Kei kneels next to him, her jacket slung over the arm of the couch.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Alex rubs his eyes, trying to forget the dream. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just a bad dream."

Kei gives him a somewhat hollow look. "The war?" He nods. "Me too."

Alex sighs. "Its over now. You said there were three things you wanted before hearing my explanation. What are Two and Three?"

Nagase sits down next to Alex.


	3. Chapter 3

"First, I'm going to explain just how I found you."

Alex sits there, silently, for a moment. If he wanted, he could have guessed a few different options. There were any number of ways, and that worried him. He had been hiding from Herr Schmidt and his cronies for six months. Sooner or later they would have found something. It was impossible to completely erase things from history. Even the most carefully hidden left a few breadcrumbs. Alex had hoped there had not been enough to track him. Especially since the whole world, except for perhaps a dozen people, though he was dead.

And of those dozen, only one knew where he was.

"You spoke to Emma, didn't you?"

Kei looks down and nods. "It took a while to find her, and even longer to convince her to tell me anything. All she said was you had gone 'back home' to pay your respects to your great-grandfather. You never told me he was an ace."

Alex shrugs. "I never personally knew him. And the wars he fought in are kinda forgotten by most people. That's how you found my pen name."

Kei nods again, picking up the book and handing it to him. Alex had expected to see it say "A Blue Dove For The Princess," but is forced to grin when he sees the title.

"'The Legend of Razgriz,' translated by Christoph Sokol." He traces his finger over the taped binding. "What happened?"

Now it was Kei's turn to shrug. "I don't know. I found it in the bookstore like that. The publisher was kind enough to tell me which city the author resides in, but could only give a postal box, not a street address. So I started asking around town."

"Discretely, I hope."

Kei turns away. There were few times Alex had spoken harshly with her, even during the war, despite rank differences and being in command. "I was as discrete as possible. In fact, I only had to ask the librarian. I figured if you had achieved your dream of writing, that you would frequent the library. They would have to have your address on file."

Smiling, Alex nods. It all made sense and was, unfortunately, simple. He wondered if Schmidt had figured it out.

"Okay, so that's how you found me. What's the Third thing?"

Kei took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm sorry."


	4. Chapter 4

The words hung between them for a few moments.

_I'm sorry._ Two of the most powerful words on earth. Well, three, if the contraction is not used.

_I'm sorry._ Such a basic statement that says so much without saying anything. It conveys obvious contrition and regret, but for what? What is the reason for causing the speaker to apologize? Why do they think the hearer will be willing to accept this apology?

_I'm sorry_ is on the other end of the conversational spectrum from what she said to him six months ago.

"Kei," he says, "you don't have to be sorry." She started to protest when he put a finger to her lips. "I think my explanation will let you know why." She nodded in acceptance.

He stands up and walks over to his desk. Opening a drawer, he retrieves a simple white envelope with a broken wax seal. Alex pulls the note out and hands it to her. "Read it."

* * *

_Stark,_

_We know who, and what, you are. You have not stopped us. We will find you and prove to you that there is no limit to our resolve. Not even Garm could stop us. What makes you think the Razgriz could?_

_Kennscht mi noch?_

_Herr Schmidt_

* * *

Kei flipped the page over, then read it again. "Who is Herr Schmidt?"

"A former member of what became the Gray Men. He was, allegedly, one of the men behind the decision to drop nuclear weapons during the Belkan War. Before that he was the chief propagandist for the party during and following the hyper-nationalist takeover of the surrounding nations. Including this one." Alex walks into the small kitchen, retrieving two glasses and a pitcher of lemonade. Kei walks over as well, sitting at the small table and accepting a glass. "Do you know what happened to Garm?"

"I know the stories of what they did during the war, but I don't know what happened to Pixy."

Alex nodds. "Just before Sundetor, the Gray Men sent me a message detailing what happened to him. He was an Osean native of Belkan descent living in Ustio. Due to his actions he was considered a traitor. They tracked him down to Usea and in 2008 sent a team in to eliminate him"

Blinking in shock, Kei sets down her glass. "What happened."

"One of the Gray Men blew up the cafe Pixy and his family were at. Thirty-four people died." Alex closes his eyes, desperately trying to forget the photograph of his three-year-old daughter's body. "It was obvious what the message meant. They were starting to figure out who we were, and they were not afraid to use any means to hurt us."

"So you chose to go into hiding."

Alex smiles weakly. "I got that note three days after Oured. Someone had slipped it under my door, so it was obvious they knew where I lived."


	5. Chapter 5

**3 Jan. 2011**

**Oured**

Alex had finally learned the full meaning of exhausted. Learned it, was intimate with it, and discovered that there was something past it.

He tried for the third time to get the key in the lock. 'Eight hours. How can anyone expect me to talk for eight hours?' The debriefings went on, and on, and on. Every second of every day since escaping Sand Island had to be accounted for. Every mission. Every mile flown. Every bomb dropped. Every bullet fired. Every drop of sweat, blood, and tears.

His spirits had been lifted when Nagase said she'd stop by after briefings. He wanted to formally ask her on a date for some time, but, obviously, they had been busy.

Finally, he opened the door. And wouldn't have noticed the small envelope had he not stepped on it. The crinkle of paper drew his gaze downward.

A simple white envelope with his name on it, written in a precise and fluid hand. On the back was a grey wax seal. The mark looked familiar, but, at the moment, Alex couldn't place it.

Immediately, he opened it.

And the world collapsed. 'So the first warning wasn't a fluke.' Quickly, Alex strode over to the table, picking up the phone. The base operator responded.

"Yes, this is Razgriz 1, I need to speak with Assistant Director Baldwin, please. Tell him it is urgent."

The phone went silent. For an eternal twenty seconds, causing Alex tapped his foot impatiently.

"Stark, what is it?" the slightly tinny voice demands.

"Sir, I just found a note from one of the Gray Men. It is quite obvious a threat, and if they have found my identity, then they can find the rest of my team. I've made my decision."

"We'll help you. An agent will have a car at the door in twenty minutes. He will be your contact while we search for the sender of your fan mail. Don't worry."

Alex lets out a sigh. "Not worried, sir. Frustrated. The war is over, essentially. I don't like having an enemy I cannot see and who does not have the decency to come out from behind the guise of being a statesman or industrialist or whatever they are."

Though Alex couldn't hear it, Baldwin nodded. "I know, son. Something I deal with every day. I don't think I could stand staring down the barrel of a loaded rifle day in and day out. But that's, essentially, what you do. Each of us fights in our own way. How soon can you be packed?"

The pilot looks about. He had been given this room a few days ago, but had only been in it to sleep. "I can be ready to fly in ten minutes."

"Where are you going?" Standing in the open door is Kei Nagase. Despite being dressed in a somewhat unflattering dress uniform, Alex cannot help but think she is beautiful.

Alex hears Baldwin say something about 'secret' before hanging up. "Kei. I have to leave."

"Where? Why?" She walks into the room, almost frantically. "We just got settled down, things are going back to normal. Is there some mission you're being sent on, because if there is then I'd better get ready. Can't have you flying without a wingman."

Alex puts his hands on her shoulders, then gently moves her aside. "This is my choice, Kei," he says as he heads to the bedroom. A few minutes later, he emerges with a packed duffle bag. "I'm sorry, Kei." He steps out the door, not stopping to look at her. Not stopping to say goodbye.

Kei practically runs after him. "I love you."


	6. Chapter 6

"You still shouldn't have left without saying goodbye."

Alex looks down, realizing that she's holding his hand. "I know. I'm sorry."

Kei smiles. "I think I understand. You did what you thought you had to." She looks down at their intertwined hands. "How long will this last?"

"I get regular updates from Assistant Director Baldwin. Had the threats ended I would have come back a long time ago, but as long as the Grey Men are still out there hunting for me, I've got to stay hidden."

Kei laughs. "Publishing a book isn't exactly a low profile."

He shrugs. "All I did was publish a translation. No need to go on a promotional tour, or even be recognized. Few outside the literary world even noticed, which is fine."

"So why do it?"

Alex smiles. "Because I could. Because I translated the legend back in high school and wanted a second go at it. Because it reminded me of you."

"Me?"

He nods, then walks over to his desk. "You should really sit over here. I think you'll like the view." He gestures to the chair.

Kei stands up, walking over to the desk. As she sits, she looks out the window at Arneym. From the desk she can see the city's seven hundred year old cathedral, the docks, and a number of quaint shops. "It is beautiful." She hears laughter behind her.

"Not the view out the window, though I am partial to it." He leans over her shoulder and points. "This view."

Her gaze follows his arm till she notices a cluster of framed photographs.

One is of a family of six: three adults and three children. The tallest of the children is a young Alex, based on the missing-tooth grin he sports. The men, who Kei assumes are his father and grandfather, look strikingly similar to the man she followed into battle.

Another picture is of Alex and his brother and sister, standing in front of a brick building. Despite smiling, they do not look happy.

Kei sees the picture journalist Albert Genette took of the squadron before the attack on the 3rd Fleet. She also sees a picture of the "Four Wings" just before the flight above November City. Chopper's smile dominates the image and Kei tries not to cry. The photo is probably the last image of their friend.

Last, Kei sees a small picture of a young woman sitting on a worn couch in a ready room. She is trying to hide her face behind a tattered book. "You kept it?"

Behind her, Alex nods. "Of course. I had to have a picture of you." Alex spins the chair around so she is facing him. "Walking away was the hardest thing I ever did, but it was part of the plan."

"What plan?"

"Baldwin's. His staff had been discussing it for a while. Remember all those evenings I spent with Grimm and the president on the Kestrel?" Kei nods. "We were contacting diplomats and intel agents. When we found out Belka was behind all this, Grimm suggested we find ways to hurt them other than militarily. He suggested aiding client states in breaking all ties. All we did was provide hope, the people did the rest. Resistance groups and independence movements started invoking the Razgriz and freedom fighters. And that's what drew the attention of men like Herr Schmidt. Since I was the leader, I became the face of the action. Mostly to keep Grimm anonymous."

"So they hunted you, us."

Alex nods. "Harling was able to get in contact with Baldwin and explain the situation. Baldwin's what made it all work. Thanks to him, the Razgriz are heroes worldwide, and honorary citizens in thirty-seven cities, including this one."

Shocked, Kei looks down. "I never knew we were that influential."

"That was the idea. We became a symbol, and people used that symbol to change fate. Even in Sudentor we are heralded by the citizens as anonymous heroes." A mischievous twinkle lights his eyes. "Come on, let me show you."

Alex takes her hand, grabbing her jacket as he pulls her out the door. He snags his own flight jacket before locking the apartment behind him.

"Where are we going?"

He smiles, extending his arm, which she accepts. "To see the work of ghosts."


	7. Chapter 7

Alex walks Kei down to the row of shops near his apartment. On their way, they pass Shmuel, who seems to be talking to himself. Alex leans to whisper in Kei's ear.

"He fought in the Second Great War, and spent two years in a POW camp. He's a nice guy, but, sometimes he has arguments with the other prisoners."

Kei turns, frowning, to look at the gray haired man as he trudges into the building. "Does he live alone?"

"Except for an herb garden, his dog, and the neighbors, yes, he does. His children visit every so often." Ales stops, looking at his neighbor. "He told me his 'discussions' with his fellow prisoners is his way of fighting post traumatic stress. He was on medication following the war, but got addicted. It ruined him. He lost his job and his wife threatened to leave him. He had to get off the meds, so he quit cold turkey. But then he started having flashbacks. His psychiatrist suggested he treat it as an outlet to vent the frustrations he bottled up while in the camps. Some fights are over and done after one session. Others are replayed for years."

She looks at him. "Will we be like that someday?"

He shrugs. "I don't know."

Silently, Alex and Kei continue walking. A couple on a tandem bicycle rides past, waving at Alex. One of the shop owners is standing on the sidewalk, sweeping. "Joachim! How are you on this fine day?" he says.

"Good, Marcel. And you?"

The portly man with thin hair and a bushy mustache gestures to his building. The red awning and shutters are a bit faded from the sun, but the windows are clean, as are the white linens and polished utensils on the pair of tables out front. "All is good in my little cafe. Just getting ready for the lunch crowd. Would you and the beautiful princess care to sit and eat?" Marcel takes Kei's right hand, bends down, and kisses it. "My treat."

Kei blushes.

"Thank you, but perhaps later, Marcel. Kei, this is Marcel Leclerc, the best chef in the city. Marcel this is Kei Nagase. We are off to see the town. It is her first time in Arneym."

Marcel lets out a booming laugh. "Young lady, you could not have picked a better guide. Few know this city and her history like Joachim Stanek. Wait one moment." He props his broom next to the door, then rushes into the cafe.

"'Joachim Stanek?' How many names do you have?"

Alex smiles. "Three. Real name, pseudonym, and pen name. My pen name is my great-grandfather's and Joachim was my grandfather's given name. I chose Stanek for its meaning. Heads up." He gestures with his chin towards the door as Marcel returns.

In his hands is a basket with the logo of Macel's Cafe on it. "Here. Since you are unavailable to dine at my fine establishment, for now, perhaps you will accept bringing some of it with you." He hands the basket to Kei.

"Thank you, monsieur Leclerc." Kei takes it, and he kisses her hands again, much to Alex's mock annoyance.

"Enjoy your time in Arneym. As Joachim will tell you, ghosts are always welcome here." He points at the window of his shop. Inside, Kei can see a framed news clipping on the wall. An article with a familiar picture.

Four pilots posing in front of a mottled blue Tiger.

* * *

[FYI: the story of Shmuel battling PTS and quitting the medication is based loosely off the experiences of Audie Murphy. Check out his story sometime.]


	8. Chapter 8

Her jaw drops.

"Joachim got me that copy and I recognized you the instant you set foot on my sidewalk. The Ghosts of Razgriz are great heroes in this city, and in all of Küstenreich. Joachim has been writing about your exploits. Or, at least, he is supposed to be."

Alex smiles sheepishly. "Writer's block."

"Uh-huh," Marcel nods. "Well, perhaps this princess of the skies will be your muse instead of a distraction. Go now." He shoos them away in mock anger. "Off with you. Go find your story."

The pair walk away as the cafe owner returns to sweeping. Alex reaches over to take the basket. "Wonder what's inside."

Opening it he finds two warm sandwiches wrapped carefully in wax paper, a bottle of wine, a small paper sack, and a short but wide jar with a dark liquid. Alex smiles.

"What is it?" Kei glances in.

"Lunch. Marcel's decided to send us a sack lunch since we didn't stay."

Kei takes the basket, closes it, and starts back toward the cafe. "Alex, we can't take this and just leave. We have to pay for it, or at least say thank you."

Alex grabs her arm, stopping her. She turns to look at him. "Kei, if you want you can thank him this evening. This is his way of thanking the Razgriz."

"But does he even know you're…" Kei stops herself. "He doesn't know, does he?"

Looking sad, Alex shakes his head. "Fewer than two dozen people worldwide know our identities, and that includes us. I've never wanted fame, but it is sad that I cannot tell anyone." Alex glances back at the cafe owner as he returns to sweeping. "Sometimes I wonder if he knows. He always is hinting at things."

Kei hugs his arm closer. "Lets not worry about that now. You had mentioned something about ghosts."

At first, it seems he does not hear her. Then, almost as if someone shocked him, Alex turns toward her. "Right. The ghosts are this way."

The pair continue walking, arm in arm, down the street. After a few minutes of shop owners and patrons greeting "Joachim" they near a bridge.

"That bridge crosses the Lower Rhenus River. It was the sight of a significant battle during the fighting here fifteen years ago. The 101st unit tasked with holding it almost didn't make it out alive."

Instead of walking across the bridge, Alex directs Kei to a park off to the left of the bridge. The cobblestone paths are lined with oak and elm trees, and every so often there are benches or tables. Soon the path comes to a sort of clearing with a stone monument.

The pavilion is circular, with five other paths meeting one with circles around the monument. The monument itself is circular, with three flag poles of equal height in the center. Standing on the base, lifesize, are four statues, at attention, facing the four cardinal directions. Their faces are without features, but the details of their clothes make it clear they represent pilots. Each has slight details making them unique.

The west-facing stature has a broadsword in his hands, point downward. Fouled about his left foot is a small anchor and chain.

The south-facing stature has a quiver strapped to his hip and a crossbow at his side, stock on the ground.

The east-facing statue has a Nihonjin nihonto and scabbard on her left side, with her right hand on the pommel. The fingers of her left hand, at her side, extend slightly to the left.

The north-facing statue holds a lantern in his left hand. An eternal flame, fueled by an unseen source, illuminates the carved patch on his chest. His right hand rests at his side, but allowing a slight gap.

At their feet of each is a polished granite plaque with a message. One in Belkan, one in Yuktobanian, one in Sapanish, and one in Osean.

_"To the four Ghosts of Razgriz._

_These demons who fought back darkness gave us the hope to liberate our homeland._

_To their anonymous memory we are forever indebted."_

Kei traces a finger over the words, not trying to hide the tears. She looks at Alex, who is standing a ways back, staring up at the flags. To the east is the flag of Osea; opposite it is the flag of Yuktobania. Between them is a light colored flag with the insignia of the Razgriz.

"The really thought we were heroes."

Alex nods. "Unsung heroes." He raises the basket in his hand. "Come on. Lets sit and eat and I'll tell you about the story."


	9. Chapter 9

They sat on a simple backless bench within sight of the monument. The basket is between them, and soon French dip sandwiches are unwrapped, gleefully dunked in _a jus_.

Alex uncorked the bottle before realizing they did not have glasses. Laughing, Kei takes the bottle from him, drinking straight from it.

Soon the sandwiches are gone and the bag of pastries is opened.

"How long have you wanted to write about the war?"

Alex glances at his statue. "Since we flew top cover of the landing. I've wanted to write for a long time, and the war simply presented a great story worth telling."

"Until we were declared traitors and listed as killed in action." She hands Alex the bottle.

"Right." He takes a swig. "Anyway, I just can't decide how to write it. Is it a memoir? If so, that could be years before it's published. Stuff would have to be declassified."

"And Herr Schmidt and the Gray Men's threat dealt with."

"Again, right. I've been trying to do a fictionalized version, but I can't get it started."

Kei looks about the empty pavilion. "Start now." Alex locks eyes with her, unsure. "Tell me your story and I'll help you write it."

Alex nods. "Okay.

* * *

_"My family originated in the Piast Republic, now part of Yuktobania. During the 40s, when the Yukes were taking over territory following the Second Great War, my grandfather, Joachim Stark, smuggled his wife, and in-laws, out of the country and back to Küstenreich, which at that time was the "east Belkan coastal protectorate."_

_"My grandmother was named Lydia Sokol. She was a "night witch," who flew briefly for the Piast air force before being injured on her first combat mission. She returned home to the family farm, which was next to an airfield used by the Belkans. Lydia's father, Christoph Sokol, was a Piastian ace. He flew in the First Great War and the Yuktobanian-Piastian War. His plane of choice was an Ansaldo Balilla, and he had twelve kills before the war ended._

_"After Grandfather brought the family to Dinsmark, he went to work for Lufthansa. With the overthrow of the monarchy, he chose to move his family to Arneym. My father, Matthias, was born here twenty years after the Second Great War ended._

_"I was born here on October 25th, 1986. My mother, Angelica, was from Delarus. I have two siblings, a younger brother, Paul, and a younger sister, Emma. We lived a quiet life before the Belkan War._

_"When the war started, most of the fighting was in the east and south, so we were left alone. But then the port became of vital importance, and Osea tried to secure it. Belkan SKs, the sturmkommandos, entered the city before the airborne arrived. It was terrible house-to-house fighting. Then the air forces showed up and started carpet bombing. It was hell._

_Some SKs wanted to use our house as a stronghold, since we lived on a street corner. They brought in a couple machine guns and a mortar. Grandfather tried to order them out. Their leader shot him. Father and Mother snuck us out the back, promising to follow. I took Paul and Emma and led them out. Father handed me a baseball bat and told me to protect my siblings. I ran down the stairs into the alley. The next thing I heard was a loud burst of gunfire._

_Paul, Emma, and I stopped. Everything was silent for a while, so we hid behind a dumpster. Mother and Father never followed. I was just getting ready to tell them we need to keep moving when we heard a small explosion, then more gunfire. After a few seconds we heard what sounded like a furnace and we could smell burning wood and cloth. One of the SKs ran out the back door, he uniform and face blackened. He dropped his rifle as he ran. I swung the bat, hitting him in the nose._

_I don't know if I killed him. I didn't care. Both Paul and Emma started screaming. I grabbed the soldier's rifle and ran back toward the house. Another SK came out, only he wasn't running. His back was to me, his rifle pointed into the house. I didn't hesitate. I raised the rifle and pulled the trigger._

_It must have been on full auto, because I was knocked down. I didn't hit him, and he turned and fired blindly at me. Most of the bullets missed, except for two, one that grazed my ribs and the other that hit my shoulder. Paul and Emma ran over, but before the SK could react, he crumpled. A paratrooper pushed him over and he stepped into the alley._

_The man, a sergeant by his stripes, motioned for us to come back into the house. I got up and followed, my siblings stayed in the alley. I told them they didn't need to fear. The man was an Osean._

_We walked into the devastated remains of our home. The bodies of our mother, father, and grandfather all laid on the floor. Paul and Emma ran to Mother's body, I went to Grandfather's. He had taught me to fly. He had inspired me to become a pilot. I searched his pockets, hoping the SKs hadn't taken it. Grandfather always carried his Ritterkreuz that he earned during the war._

_I put the cross in my pocket and found my backpack. Going to the kitchen, I scavenged for food. The paratroopers told me it wasn't necessary. One came over to stop me. I tried to shake off his hand on my shoulder, but broke down crying. I told him I had to take care brother and sister. He told me he understood, but that they would keep me safe until we got away from the fighting._

_It was three weeks before the fighting ended in Arneym. We buried Mother, Father, and Grandfather. Of course, we weren't the only ones who had lost family. Paul, Emma, and I were put on a train, along with as much of our possessions as we could carry, at least what had survived the fighting. I carried Grandfather's Ritterkreuz in my pocket. We had to go south. The Belkans were getting desperate, and this was a few day before the Attacks. No one knew what would happen, though rumors spread. We wanted to get to the Osean heartland as fast as possible._

_We had no family to go to, so when we got to Fontenelle we were alone. Safe from the war but in danger of living on the streets. Luck or divine providence was with us. Father Michael Moody had found us walking the streets one night while we searched for shelter. He was the priest at a local church that had a small orphanage and a halfway house. He took us in._

_The Father, another priest, and the three nuns on staff were very kind to us. A number of children came and went in the next year, thanks to the war, but we stayed. It became a new family for us. We grew up at the orphanage. I was tutored by the Father in scriptural languages and assisted him as a sort of unofficial deacon. For a while we had a normal life._

_In high school I focused on literature, translating the Razgriz legend my junior year. I was on track to be salutatorian before I went and nearly killed a man. My girlfriend, a Sapanish girl named Calista Hidalgo, had been abducted, raped, and killed by a former Belkan soldier who had escaped the camps postwar._

_I found him, tracked him down, and attacked him. I had that baseball bat that Father had given to me years ago, and I used it well. It took five police officers to stop me. The man was in the hospital for almost a year. He's in prison now._

_I was given a choice: prison or service. I chose the navy. I didn't walk at my graduation._

_After basic, one of the instructors noticed that I had Civil Air Patrol experience, so he got me into the flight school. I finished in the top ten and was assigned to VS-22 flying S-3 Vikings. I flew the "Hoover" for four months before being sent to train as a fighter pilot. I was assigned to VFA-31, the Tomcatters, and slated to receive an F-14. I was on the squadron roster for a month before being pulled from the flight line. The Navy didn't need so many fighter pilots, but the Air Force did. So I was "loaned."_

_I arrived at McNealy as a Lieutenant, which surprised me since I started a fire in the Junior Officers' wardroom, which is how I got my call sign. Immediately, Lieutenant Colonel Ford took a disliking to me. Part of it was my background as a Naval Aviator. Part of it was my aggressive nature in the air, which came from flying the Tomcat. Mostly it was my standoffishness, as he called it. I was a Lieutenant, which is the equivalent of Captain in the Air Force. I spoke with Captains as if we were the same rank, and I ordered Lieutenants. He didn't like what he perceived as a breach in protocol, so in July of 2010 he "exiled" me to Sand Island._

_Which was fine by me, since there I got to fly. Bartlett was wary of me at first. He employed me as an aggressor, especially after learning about my Grandfather, and my study of history's greatest aces._

_When the squadron received new pilots, including you and Chopper, I was rotated off the flight line. I spent my time assisting Pops in the hangar. I knew I'd get to fly again, then the attack at Cape Landers happened. With the squadron devastated, Bartlett had to put me in. So there I was, Wardog 4, flying a Tiger on a mission to intercept a strategic recon plane._

* * *

Greetings readers. Well, here it is. The longest chapter thus far. This will probable be the only large first-person exposition in the story. We'll return to third-person for the next chapter. What do you think so far? I know, I'm ignoring a few things established in the history of the game, like past wars and what happened to the Gray Men. You're not here for a history lecture. You're here for the characters and the combat. Be warned, I don't use in-game designations for weapons and aircraft. I prefer the real names. I also will "tweak" some of the levels to make them more "realistic," such as lessening the number of enemies or adding in some allied units to ease the burden on our heroes.


	10. Chapter 10

"Shorebirds"

24 September 2010

Off Cape Landers, Osean Federation

* * *

Three mottled blue Tigers slice through the hazy air, following an "Erusian patterned" Wild Weasel.

"Not sure what Bartlett's thinking, taking that beast out. Though in the hands of an old pro like him the Rhino can dance. Still, I prefer to have a gun on hand."

Blaze is not speaking to anyone in particular. The mission, and the situation surrounding it, was odd, in his opinion.

Bartlett's demeanor toward Blaze was odd as well.

On the flightline, and especially in the air, he treated Blaze with the respect an Academy graduate deserved, even a product of the Navy. Bartlett never held Blaze's time flying S-3 Vikings against him. And he routinely assigned the eager pilot to be an aggressor, especially after learning his grandfather was an ace. "Encountering different styles sharpen skills," he had said. Though he did keep calling him "kid."

Around base, especially in front of Perrault and Hamilton, Bartlett was somewhat cold to Blaze. He often had berated him for not attending TOPGUN or even being posted to a previous fighter squadron. For almost a week after first being assigned to Sand Island Blaze was "confined" to the maintenance hangars. He got to know Pops pretty well, but it grated on him.

At least Bartlett could pretend to like him, unlike Ford.

"Wardog Four, hello! You'd better be marking out tail, son."

Blaze silently chastises himself for letting his mind wander. He pulls his gaze from infinity and back into the cockpit of his Tiger. Both nuggets, 2nd Lieutenants Davenport and Nagase, pull their planes in tighter with their flight lead.

"One, Four. Sorry. I've got your six, boss."

Blaze lets his mind wander a bit again as Bartlett and the chatty Davenport, who essentially just demanded his call sign, argue over who will send a surrender request. The briefing had stated that they were to intercept a high-speed reconnaissance plane. There wasn't specifics on the type. Blaze was willing to bet it was a MiG-25RBT Foxbat-B or a Tu-22RDM Blinder-C, both of which were fast, high flying recon birds. Hamilton though it was a Yak-28SR or TARK Brewer-D, due to its success at evading two missiles.

Suddenly, an icy shark-finned jet broke through the clouds. "One, Four, tally-ho. Fencer-E, one o'clock." The Su-24MR was a variation of the superb Fencer tactical bomber. Similar in size, shape, and mission to the old F-111 "Aardvark," except with a stubby nose.

'We'll be hard pressed to catch her if she decides to run.' Bartlett had asked Chopper to send a surrender request, which was ignored. 'I'll be the pilot doesn't speak Osean slang. If only the Captain knew I speak Yuktobanian. The pilot has to be Yuke. Who else has a Fencer-E?'

From up above, somewhere, AWACS controller Thunderhead reminds everyone weapons are safe and the Fencer is not a target.

"Warning! We have four high-speed bogies inbound." Blaze turns to looks on the vector, cross checking with his own radar. The tiny set in his fighter simply can't show them, yet. He'd have to get within visual range, anyway, since all he had were cannon and six AIM-9M Sidewinders. Bartlett at least has two AIM-7 Sparrows, but he also has the radar to use them.

"Heads up!" Chopper yells. "They're firing at us!"

As Thuderhead reiterates the weapons-safe call, Blaze does the only prudent thing: break into the enemy. By doing so, he cuts the distance between him and them, and lessons a chance that they can get a good lock with heat seekers. 'Unless they're all aspects or have radar-guided.'

Bartlett give the clear to engage and instantly two MiG-21bis disappear from the formation. Both Sparrows had been used, and amazingly the finicky missile worked.

Four more Fishbed-N fighters are behind them, about twenty miles. Six against four. Five against four; Nagase latched onto the lead MiG and splashed it with two Sidewinders.

Blaze selects afterburner, charging toward the second flight. Suddenly, with just under ten miles between him and the silvery fighters, he breaks into a left-handed upward chandelle. The maneuver doesn't fool the MiG, but it wasn't meant to. Now he's above them by about three thousand feet.

Bartlett and Nagase have taken care of the last of the lead MiGs. Chopper, though, has made a grave error. He's turned his back to the new enemy.

"Chopper, break left!" Blaze drops his nose, selecting one of the MiGs. The Sidewinder purrs, then growls, and he fires. The five-inch wide weapon snakes its way up the lead MiG's tailpipe, detonating. The right element breaks, with the leader's wingman climbs. Blaze converts on him, sending a half-second burst from nose to mid-spine. The Fishbed staggers then tumbles from the sky.

Blaze turns to follow the remaining MiGs, seeing they've already launched their missiles. "Thunderhead, Wardog Four, status of the Fencer?"

"Enemy recon plane down."

His eyebrows raise. 'They shot down their own plane. Really didn't want us catching it, huh?' Blaze follows the Fishbeds' turn, trying to gain a lock or get the pipper out front. "Chopper, get over here, see if you can drive them closer to me."

Chopper barrels in from the MiGs' two o'clock low, causing them to roll and climb. Blaze simply continues his turn, looping around to find the MiGs again. They're still in formation and climbing, only now he has tone.

"Blaze, fox two." Two heat seekers lance out. One nearly grazes the canopy of the lead Fishbed. The other detonates a yard from the right wing. The blast shreds the stabilizer and engine, causing the MiG to cartwheel. Lead MiG banks left to avoid collision, allowing Blaze to get closer. A few rounds of cannon fire strike his engine, causing smoke.

"You mind if I take this kill?" Blaze glaces back. Chopper is behind and below him, in a perfect position for a missile shot. Blaze rolls right, hearing "fox two" as he does. The missile tracks true, obliterating the rear of the final MiG.

* * *

You may have noticed I'm using different aircraft, and more specific designations, than the game. Namco made a great game, but I'm going for more realism with my tale. So the Yukes will almost exclusively fly Soviet or Russian aircraft. And the Oseans will fly NATO planes, mostly American, but a few Brit and French birds. I also skipped the briefing this mission. Sometimes we'll see them, sometimes we won't. Special thanks goes out to Blaze1337 for posting videos of the missions online.


	11. Chapter 11

"Ya'll did good out there. Even you, Motormouth." The couple ground crew and replacement pilots present at the debriefing applaud. Everyone had gotten a kill, or more.

As the pilots leave to change out of their flight gear, Perrault stops Stark and Bartlett. "Gentlemen, a moment of your time."

Alex briefly glances at the Captain, but Bartlett only shrugs. Both come to attention as the base commander nears.

"I know you to don't exactly like each other-"

"Huh, goes without saying," Bartlett says.

"But I need you both to work together on this. Tell me about Second Lieutenant Nagase's demeanor during the fight."

Stark starts to respond when Bartlett interrupts. "She performed textbook, sir. whatever jitters she had for the last fight are gone, at least in the air."

"What do you mean?"

"Sir," Stark replies, "she's still a bit reclusive on the ground. She sits by herself in the mess hall, and at briefings. Doesn't socialize, from what I can tell, not that there's much of a social network here, being undermanned." The colonel nods. "I think she might still be recovering from the fight, at least emotionally, but she's not letting it affect her flying."

Bartlett nods. "She was pretty cool out there today. I told her before if she keeps flying like she has she'll end up killing herself."

"Meaning?"

"She's got the potential to be one of our best. But she won't have a long career."

"There are old pilots, and there are bold pilots, but there are no old bold pilots."

"Right, kid."

Perrault looks between the two men. The animosity he had seen them display seemed to disappear, at least briefly. Which was good to him. Many in the Air Force thought him a hard man to work with, and a potentially incompetent commander. However, he was a "big picture" thinker, having studied political science long ago. His concern in this forward outpost was not only the defense of Osea, but the prevention of an escalated incident. There would be a lot of paperwork to fill and phone calls to make in response to the eight kills Wardog earned today.

"I want both of you to keep an eye on her. She graduated top of her class, and has some significant family. Its expected she'll be a squadron leader by the end of next year."

"Pardon the pun, sir," Stark says, "but you want us to help her keep her edge." Bartlett stifles a snicker.

"That's exactly what I'm asking Lieutenant. Dismissed."

Both men salute and turn to leave.

"'Keep her "edge,"' eh?" Bartlett shakes his head as they enter the Life Support room. "Couldn't help yourself, huh?"

Stark shrugs. "Part of why I think Ford sent me here. Couldn't stand my carefree attitude."

"No, Ford sent you here because he hates Navy pilots, and knows I don't care much for them either. The Naval Air Force should have been folded-into the Air Defense Force back in the 30s."

This time Stark shakes his head. "They tried that in Yuktobania, Belka, and Erusia. Didn't work there, either. The philosophies and needs are different enough. Air Force wings are specialized to tasks, while Navy wings are 'do all' units."

"Yeah, and that attitude leads to an ego that says you guys think you're superior."

Stark laughs, "In some ways we are. Does your runway move?"

Bartlett laughs as he hands up his flight suit and heads for the locker room to shower.


	12. Chapter 12

"I don't know, Pops. I understand Perrault's reasons, but in my experience, whose kid you are doesn't mean you'll be a good leader." Alex tosses his empty beer bottle in the bin between them. The two men sit on decommissioned ejection seats in the back of Hangar C, a cooler in front of them.

"Maybe who her parents are doesn't say if she is a good leader, but their why she got into the academy. Maybe she has a legacy to live up to."

"You boys started without me?" Bartlett stands in the doorway, arms crossed.

"Sorry, Jack. Pull up a chair. We're just talking about Nagase."

Bartlett turns up the stereo in back, then sits in a vacant ejection seat. "I take it Kid balks at the idea of her parents being why she could be flight lead?"

Alex glances at his leader. "Got that right. So, what gives? You're big on pilots displaying skill, not on whose coat tails they ride. You treat me like a nugget. Why's Nagase different?"

"Don't recognize her name, do you?"

Both Pops and Alex look at him. "Should I have?"

Bartlett shakes his head. "No, though you're no doubt familiar with her father."

Alex sents his beer down and leans forward. It was obvious that, whatever Nagase's background was, it would be good.

"Nagase's adopted. Her father, her real father, is a former fighter pilot from fifteen years ago. Care to guess?"

Alex's brain freezes. "No way."

Bartlett just nods. "Why do you think she has a book about a demon legend. If you get a chance, read the inscription in the cover. Her father gave that to her as a way to find him once the war ended. He was in Ustio as an advisor after they gained independence; a lot of mercenaries were. She went to a relative in San Salvacion. Her father flew for Air Ixiom after the war, and was the pilot of one of the two planes rescued by Mobius One."

"I've heard the transcripts. She's the one talking with Mobius during the dogfight."

"Yep. Her father was injured during the flight. After landing safely, they moved to Oured, and he worked as an instructor at the academy."

Pops empties his bottle. "What does he teach?"

"Navigation. Nagase has a lot to live up to, and she knows it. That's part of why she can't unwind. What I told her is true, if she keeps flying recklessly, she'll die. Her father wasn't reckless."

"No," Pops agrees, "he wasn't. He was a true ace. Calm and professional. Even at the dam."

Alex leans back, looking at the Hawk trainers parked in the dark hangar just beyond their globe of light. "Do you want us to cut her some slack?"

Bartlett tosses his bottle in the bin. "No. At least not in the air. Keep pushing her to be better. If Perrault is right she deserves a command, and I'd like to see her get it."

* * *

Hmm… I wonder who Nagase's father is...


	13. Chapter 13

"Open War"

27 September 2010

Sand Island, Osean Federation

* * *

"Hey, Nagase!"

Kei stares skyward as the pilots walk to their fighters. The day is bright and clear, perfect flying weather for fighters. And recon drones.

An unidentified ship was just off the island, and it had launched UAVs. Wardog was given a simple mission: shoot down the drones. The ship was in Osean territory, and was refusing to respond to radio calls. Bartlett was to try again once airborne, then make it clear that the drones would be intercepted. They squadron would not attack the ship.

"What, Chopper?"

The rock and roll loving pilot grins. "Think you can handle these drones? I hear they put up a heck of a fight. Hey!" Chopper nearly falls over, having been shoved by Alex.

"Yeah, and how many kills do you have Davenport?"

"Quit your yakking and get to your fighters." Bartlett climbs the ladder to his Phantom. Blaze, Edge, and Chopper climb into their Tigers. All four take off with no issue, and soon find the drones.

There are six Searcher UAVs. Their small and slow, meaning their hard to hit. Bartlett informs them to not waste a missile, and use cannon. He climbs to 20,000 feet then lets the other three take the kills.

"Just like gunnery practice." Blaze drops to sea level and sweeps past the ship. Its a catamaran design, odd for a military type vessel, but not too uncommon for something scientific. The design isn't familiar, but some of the components are. Specifically a large circular plate.

"Wardog, the ship is likely armed with Gecko. Repeat, ships has Gecko SAMs."

"Warning," Thunderhead interrupts, "multiple bogies inbound, closing fast."

Bartlett stays high, while Edge and Blaze form up, returning to Sand Island and the safety of the SAM batteries.

"I can't make it! They're running me down!" Blaze looks back to see four MiG-21bis closing fast on Chopper. Just as the lead opens fire with his cannon, four white missiles streak past Blaze. Three Sparrows hit their mark. The trailing Fishbed breaks off, only for Chopper to convert on him and chase him to the waves.

Coming in from the west are four new fighters. Blaze reverses course, turning to engage the new enemy. Four sleek MiG-29 Fulcrum-As bear in. The Tigers are majorly out gunned.

"Blaze, break right on three." The pilot clicks his mike in response. "One, two, three!" Blaze pivots his fighter, skidding. Edge shoots past, two Sidewinders darting towards the lead Fulcrums. One evades, the other doesn't.

Blaze reacquires, finding himself on the tail of two MiGs. Both seem to not notice him as he salvoes two missiles. Both track true. "Splash two."

Chopper's Fishbed is down, and Nagase's tango with the last Fulcrum. Soon, Bartlett joins and "convinces" the MiG to stay where Edge can hit it.

"Picture clear, all hostile aircraft are destroyed."

The radar warning receiver continues to beep, casing all four pilots to scan for threats. A plume of white bursts from the ship and chases Nagase.

Edge reefs her fighter, trying to break the lock. Suddenly Bartlett pulls in formation before peeling off. The Gecko tracks, detonating off his starboard wing. Bartlett and his RIO punch out.

"Warning! Warning! Wardog squadron, return to base immediately!"


	14. Chapter 14

The three fighters touche down just as two UH-1 search and rescue helicopters lifted off. Blaze, Edge, and Chopper are directed to the ramp in front of Hangar E, where Pops waits with more Sidewinders, AGM-65G Mavericks, and drop tanks.

Blaze shuts down his engines and raises the canopy. "Pops!" he yells over the din. "What's going on?"

Pops directs the mechanics and a couple replacement pilots in refitting the Tigers. "All I know is the Yukes declared war, and you three are to be enroute to Port St. Hewlett as soon as possible. You've got just enough time to grab a bite and hear a cliff notes briefing from Hamilton."

Stark slides down the access ladder and practically sprints to the administration building. Chopper and Nagase are close behind.

"Kid, what's up?!"

Alex doesn't look back. "We're at war, Chopper. We've got to get to St. Hewlett, probably to help protect the fleet. Hamilton's got more for us, I hope."

"I do, Lieutenant, but only the basics." Alex stops short, nearly running into the captain. Hamilton has never been very friently with Alex, for reasons he could never figure out. He was always so... cold. Then again, he was pretty cold with everyone.

"You'll be assigned to defend the port. Report is that the Yukes are sending a sizable force of aircraft and ships to knock out the units there. You will provide air support in any way possible. That is all. A more detailed briefing will be given enroute." He salutes. "Dismissed."

The pilots return salutes, then turn to leave. They have a common location: the mess hall. All three pass though quickly, snagging whatever they can. Alex lucks out and secures a couple of biscuits fresh from the oven.

Stark, Nagase, and Davenport run out of to their waiting fighters moments later. Pops stand there waiting. "Good luck out there."

"Thanks Pops." Blaze throws a salute to the veteran mechanic as he vaults up the ladder and into the cockpit. After a lightning quick preflight, the three Tigers roll onto the runway and claw skyward.


	15. Chapter 15

"I remember that mission. It was the first time I disobeyed an order." Kei brushes powdered sugar from the last zeppole off her hands. "I know they people were expecting me to take the lead, but I just couldn't."

Alex looks up from his final pastry. "I never did ask why. I found the report from Bartlett suggesting you should be at least elevated to element lead, if not given your own squadron. Why did you defer to me?"

Kei sighs, leaning back on the bench. She closes her eyes and turns her head skyward. "It was my duty. I was the wingman, and I had lost my flight lead. It was my job to protect the flight lead. I had to complete that objective before I could move on." She turns to look at him. "Only you didn't want to let me."

* * *

"Narrow Margin"

27 September 2010

Port St. Hewlett, Osean Federation

* * *

"Due to pressing circumstances, I'll be issuing an emergency in-flight briefing."

Blaze toggles a switch, dropping the external fuel tank. Thunderhead continues to explain the situation. Ships of the 3rd Fleet are attempting a breakout of the port. Arrayed against them are two _Sovremenny_-class destroyers, three _Krivak_ frigates, and two _Nanchuka_-class corvettes. Approximately a dozen aircraft were enroute.

"Edge, you lead the formation." Blaze looks off to the right. Nagase's fighter suddenly slides left.

'Guess she'll get her command before next year.'

"Negative. You take the lead, Blaze. I'll fly on your wing." As Thunderhead berates Nagase for disobeying orders, a light gray streak darts past. The F-14 Tomcat launches two missiles, which destroy a pair of Su-17 Fitter attack craft.

Ships in port are scrambling at flank speed to escape the port, regardless of damage. Two more Tomcats launch from the Kestrel as a flight of five AV-8B Harriers fly in from the airbase to the north.

"I'll cover your six, alright Blaze?"

Blaze takes a second to glance at his wingmate. "No, you stick with Chopper, he'll need your help more."

"Please, let me do this." Edge brings her aircraft along side. Blaze shakes his head.

"Trust me, Chopper needs it more right now. Try to keep up."

"How can you be so confident, kid?"

Blaze puts his fighter in a shallow climb. "Because, Chopper, this is a naval fight, and I understand the tactics. The Yukes don't have a spectacular navy; its optimized around subs. The few aircraft we'll see will be land based and at the end of their fuel. They won't have the time to turn and burn, so they'll take one pass then bug out."

He rolls his fighter, diving on a pair of Su-17 Fitters. "Which means there'll be some easy kills. Blaze, engaging. Fox Two!"

A five-inch diameter missile sprints off the left rail, clawing after the closser Yuke attacker. The proximity fuze detonates, sending a cloud of shrapnel into the right side of the engine. Streaming smoke and fire, the Fitter plummets.

Blaze rolls his fighter, bleeding speed to stay on the second Fitter's six. Dropping three hundred yards off its tail, he opens up with the twin twenty millimeter cannons. The one and a half second burst shreds the tail planes and engine. As the doomed attacker begins to cartwheel, the pilot ejects.

"Edge, Chopper, check in." Blaze looks around the airspace above the port, hoping to see two blue-mottled jets.

"North side of the bay heading west, Kid. Nagase took out a Fitter. We've got four more aircraft coming in. Thunderhead says two of 'em are something bigger."

"Blaze, they look to be Fullbacks."

Blaze pitches up and looks over his left shoulder. There, about five miles from the bridge are a pair of twin-engined jets. Their wide canopies and twin fins make it obvious they are of the Flanker family. Unlike the Su-34 Fullback, these two do not have the duck-bill radome, but retains the more standard shape of the Flanker.

"Edge, Chopper, be careful. Those are Su-33UB Flanker-Ks. They don't usually carry weapons, but they're more optimised for air-to-air than the Fullback."

Looking down, Blaze can see his squadron mates flying just above the water. Above the bridge are two Yak-38 Forgers. The Forger is similar to the Harrier, but not as good. They are also known for short range, meaning a carrier must be nearby. 'And Yuktobania doesn't have many carriers.'

Before he can seek out the Yuke flattop, Blaze sees both blue and green fighters dive on the Tigers, hoping to use speed to catch Edge and Chopper. "Wardog Two and Three, bandits one o'clock high! Break!"

Suddenly, Chopper climbs, traveling head on with the enemy. A quick missile shot takes out one of the Forgers. The second breaks off, only to run into a flight of three F/A-18 Hornets. The Yuke fighter tries to fights its way out, but cannot.

Edge continues to attack the Flankers. With a greater top speed, they can outpace her Tiger. She slides behind them, lining up for a missile attack. A large white missile streaks in from Nagase's left, destroying the lead fighter. The other, spooked by Captain Snow's Phoenix missile shot, breaks hard right. As he loses airspeed, Nagase fires. The Sidewinder tracks true, knocking the right wing off. The big fighter tumbles, striking the water and exploding.

For the first time, Alex notices that there are people floating in the oil-slicked water.

"Say something, Kid." Blaze stares blankly ahead.

The threat warning beeps.

The Tu-16KSR, billowing smoke from his earlier pass, looms in his canopy. Twin flashes dance on the Tiger's nose as sparks erupt on the Badger-G's body.

Marine Harriers peel off after attacking a frigate.

A missile skids past, clipping the tail off a MiG-27.

"Good kill Chopper."

A _Sovremenny _destroyer cuts in front of the _Kestrel_. Two AGM-56 Mavericks drop from Blaze and Nagase's planes.

Two MiG-23s are blasted out of the sky by SAMs from an Aegis ship.

The corvettes take station next to the stricken destroyer as smoke and fire pour out of two holes in its superstructure.

Apache gunship helicopters hover around the two remaining frigates, keeping them from the fleet.

An Su-33 flies low over the water; ribbons of smoke trailing behind. A Tomcat follows the Flanker-K, driving it farther from the battlespace.

"That's one tough boat."

Alex blinks. The fight is over.

"Wardog, form up. Lets go home."

Two weary and weaponless Tigers take up position on his wing.

"One, two, three. We're all back safe."

* * *

Sorry for the gap between updates. Pesky thing called life got in the way. Made a few corrections to previous chapters that I noticed while reading through them. If you spot any mistakes, let me know and I'll add your name to the drawing for a brand new cirrus cloud.

I tried to convey a feeling of shock for the second half, which is why it doesn't follow the narrative style I've been using. If it didn't work, oh well. I'll be doing other "odd" things with later missions.

Hope everyone's having as much fun reading as I am writing.

-Soter


	16. Chapter 16

Alex suddenly stands up, walking past the monument to stare out at the river. The early afternoon sun causes him to squint, and wish he had brought sunglasses.

From her seat at the bench, Kei sees Alex unconsciously mirror his statue. Cautiously, she approaches.

"We were in the right place at the right time, that's all. Luck of the draw. Coincidence. There wasn't anything about us that was special or exceptional. There just wasn't anyone else. Especially after that night." He looks at Kei. "That chaotic night after the first day of the war."

* * *

27 September 2010

Sand Island, Osean Federation

* * *

Rock music echoes through the drywall as Alex tries, in vain, to sleep. Chopper had been playing his "music" since being allowed to return to quarters after the debriefing. While he respected his fellow pilots' need to "de-stress," Alex needed to unwind as well. The extended debriefing with the colonel and Hamilton wasn't positive.

Yuktobania had conducted a multi-pronged attack, hitting three naval bases, two naval air stations, a marine base, four army bases, and an air base.

Thirteen ships had been sunk, including one carrier.

Almost one hundred aircraft were destroyed, though a quarter of them were trainer or support craft shot up while on the ground.

Unofficial count was over 2,000 dead and twice that wounded, both military personnel and citizens, though numbers were still coming in.

Five of the strikes featured carrier-launched aircraft. But the Yukes only had three carriers, and one was in drydock with its engines being replaced. Even more confusing was the fact that two of the strikes could not have been launched from the carriers, simply due to distance from the other targets. Perrault, flabbergasted, asked for Stark's assessment.

"The only possible way the Yukes could launch short-ranged carrier aircraft from a ship that literally disappeared minutes after recovery is if they used a submarine."

"A submarine carrier," scoffs Hamilton, "impossible."

Stark shakes his head. "Not impossible, sir. The Yukes have been building large submarines for nearly fifty years. The _Typhoon_ class is as large as the old _Essex_ carriers. Rumor is that the Yukes have build a sub the size of a modern supercarrier."

Perrault nearly chokes. "Why?"

"Not for the carrier abilities, that's for sure. The Yukes have never been big on using flattops. They prefer long-range bombers and boomers."

"'Boomers,' lieutenant?"

Stark nods. "Sorry, colonel. Navy nickname for ballistic missile submarines. Our ballistic subs are pretty big, but the _Typhoons_ are bigger. If it is true the Yukes have built this super-sub, they'll use it mostly as a missile launch platform. It will be able to dive deeper and stay submerged longer than any other."

"Which makes it extremely hard to detect and sink."

"Correct, captain." Stark grabs a piece of paper and a pencil and begins sketching. "It would be also useful for an invasion. It could, theoretically, carry a platoon of marines. Perfect for entering and taking a port."

Hamilton stares at the aviator. "How is it that a pilot knows so much about submarines?"

Alex smiles. "I'm a naval aviator, remember. We're trained to know about ships, especially potential targets. Besides, submarines are interesting."

Perrault stands up. "Well, I think we've done enough trying to win the war for tonight. Dismissed."

Alex made his way back to his room. He collapses on his bed, trying to will Chopper's stereo to be silent, when the air raid siren shrieks.


	17. Chapter 17

"First Flight"

27 September 2010

Sand Island, Osean Federation

* * *

Alex bolts out of bed, thankful he was still wearing his flight suit and boots. He runs down the hall, Chopper and Kei close behind.

"Kid! What's going on?"

Alex barely glances back. "What'd'ya think's going on? The Yukes are here for tea and cookies!"

Chopper's equally sarcastic retort is drowned out by sirens and chaos as they sprint onto the main ramp.

Quickly, the pilots climb in their weary fighters. Thankfully, Pops had thought ahead again. Each plane had a full load of missiles; six Sidewinders. 'Not that it'll be much if they send a big enough group.' Blaze starts his engines, as does Kei in her fighter at the head of the line. Chopper lags behind.

"Come on! Come on, come on!"

Blaze looks about the sky, seeing numerous contrails in the low, red light of sunset. "What a time to strike; right after we've been hit and still recovering."

Chopper finally gets his fighter rolling. Blaze follows, turning onto the runway. In the distance, he can see four fast-moving jets with a single broad tail fin.

"Blaze, scramble!"

Over the radio, he hears Edge ask about Bartlett's spare fighter.

"Forget it," Pops replies. "Get as much altitude as you can, fast."

As his fighter rockets down the runway, Blaze looks about the airspace above Sand Island. Ahead of him are a pair of MiG-23 Floggers. Four more Floggers are north of the base, preparing for a strafing run. Two more are low at his five o'clock. These have the slender noses of MiG-27s. Above him to the left is a large bone-white jet. The sleek shape, twin engine nacelles, and swing wings identify it as a Tu-160 Blackjack.

"Chopper, Edge, we got to get those bombers, the fighters can wait!"

Before he gets a reply, he hears a familiar imperious voice on the radio. "This is Wardog Leader, Lt. Colonel Ford. Approaching Sand Island. What's your current status?"

The tower, as calmly as possible, explains. "We are under air attack! Repeat, we are under air attack!"

"I trust you can hold the runway until we arrive?"

Blaze responds before base control can. "Ford, this is Stark. You'd better have a full load of missiles. We've got heavy bombers and numerous tactical attack craft. There are currently only eight friendly-"

"Stark, you will hold the runway so we can safely land, is that clear?"

Numerous glowing meteors arc past his canopy. Turning, Blaze sees two Floggers behind him, close enough to use cannon. He puts his Tiger in a climb. "I cannot guarantee we can hold the runway without support."

"That's a direct order, Stark. You will obey."

Ignoring him, Blaze snaps his fighter left, booting opposite rudder. The tiny fighter snap rolls, causing the two Yuke fighters to slide into range. Blaze fires his cannon at the closest, clipping its wing. As it tumbles, number two dives to escape. A missile streaks in from beneath it.

"Good shot Chopper."

"Thanks. You should have seen Nagase, though. She dove in and blasted the other two that were on your tail. Never saw anyone use their gun that quickly."

Blaze looks around for his other wingman. He finds her chasing a MiG-25, her cannon flashing every so often. 'She flies like a demon.'

"Blaze, Pops is taking off." Blaze looks toward the runway and sees Pop's old S-1 Tracker lumber into the sky.

'If he's willing to fly in that old thing now, then he must really trust us.'

"Look at the hangar. Who the hell pulled that out?"

Captain Bartlett's F-5 taxis out of the hangar like a ghost and turns for the runway. "This is Grimm. I was in the hangar helping the mechanics. I'm taking off."

Edge finally downs the smoking Foxbat, then turns back toward the island. Chopper heads down as well, flying parallel with the runway as Grimm takes off.

Blaze climbs to meet four Floggers, getting a missile shot at one, and spaying another with cannon fire. Both go down. He suddenly breaks, latching onto the tail of the leader. The plane jinks, but can't evade the Sidewinder.

"The is Airman First Class Hans Grimm, call sign Archer. Control tower and all aircraft, I will be joining the Wardog Squadron."

"Grimm, get over here and cover my six!" The heart-marked Tiger pulls into formation with Chopper.

Blaze checks the airspace again. From the west are six more aircraft, though he can't identify them yet. The Blackjack is still above the island, but is damaged and has two Marine F/A-18C Hornets. They had stopped at the base after having to divert due to running out of fuel before they could get back to their ship.

"This is Wardog Leader. Sand Island, I'm out of fuel. Request permission to land." Out of the sun, Ford's F-4 Phantom appears. Blaze can see that there are four Sparrow and four Sidewinder missiles still on it.

"All friendly aircraft, cover me while I land."

Blaze scowles. Ford was a by-the-book pilot who believed that the outdated "interceptor theory" was still viable in modern combat. He promoted the use of "missile only" fighters that would sortie and knock out enemy bombers from beyond visual range. Because of that, three squadrons under his influence were equipped with F-4 Phantoms that did not carry guns.

Ford also rejected Boyd's theories of "energy maneuvering," even after getting his entire squadron "killed" during a training exercise. It didn't help that the enemy was a single F-16 piloted by a naval aviator named Stark. During the debriefing following the exercise, Stark said the reason the squadron lost was because Ford was "stuck worshipping an outdated theory that died three decades ago."

And that was one of the reasons why Stark was sent to Sand Island.

"What are you, insane?!"

Blaze winces as Chopper comes dangerously close to insubordination. Ford's reply, though, is cut off by a pair of Alamo missiles. There are no ejections.

Four MiG-29A Fulcrums escort a second Tu-160 from the west.

"Chopper, Archer, check in on the first Blackjack. Makes sure those jarheads have it taken out then join up with us. Edge, with me. We've got to get that bomber."

The Fulcrums dive after a pair of air force F-16s, which are chasing the remaining MiG-27. Edge and Blaze take the opportunity to climb and attack the last Blackjack.

The pair roll above it, then fire a missile each. The Sidewinders fly in formation, before detonating against opposite engine nacelles. The large plane staggers, then starts falling, tail first.

"Kid, first bomber's down."

"Roger, second bomber's down, too. I don't know about anyone else, but I'm exhausted."

As they land and taxi to the hangars, Blaze sees the charred remains of hangars, aircraft, and even some people. Shards of metal and burning fuel are everywhere. Tarmac is cratered, and one of the radar antennas is destroyed. Trucks rush to the base hospital, overflowing with wounded.

"I hope this war doesn't lasts much longer."


	18. Chapter 18

Stark stares out at the horizon, not focusing on anything.

"You okay?" Kei rests her hand on his.

He blinks and looks at her. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just hard to forget sometimes." She nods.

The distant sound of a plane draws their eyes skyward. A gray cargo plane, barely visible above the light clouds as it descends, flies southeast. "Another flight to Heierlark. Maybe the rumors are true."

"What rumors?" Kei continues to watch the plane.

"That Heierlark might be closing. Or included in the realignment program, though there isn't a major army or navy base near enough by. Whatever the case, at least once a week a handful of Hercs or Globemasters land and then leave with equipment and personnel."

With the plane out of sight, Kei turns to Alex. "Would they really close Heierlark?"

Alex shrugs. "They're closing Sand Island. More former Belkan territories are becoming independent nations, and not all of them want an Osean base on their soil. Obviously they'd have to move the flight training center, but I'm guessing it will end up at the academy or combined with the Navy's training airfield at Mitcher Air Station." He sighs. "Our last respite. I wonder how the nuggets would react if we showed up today."

Kei laughs. "The were excited to see us when we first visited."

30 September 2010

Heierlark Air Force Base, North Osea

Four weary gray warbirds materialize out of the clouds. The F-16C Falcons, on their last ounces of fuel, land on the snow dusted runway. The pilots follow a yellow jeep toward the hangars, before shutting down their thirsty engines.

A cold north wind nips at them as they open their canopies. "Jeez, Kid, I wished I'd worn my flight jacket."

"Chopper, had we known we'd be diverted north I'd've ordered warmer gear." Alex climbs out of the cockpit, aware that his sweat-soaked flight suit will freeze to his body if he doesn't move quickly. "Why they didn't task a tanker or two for an operation with more than twenty aircraft is beyond me. Come on. Lets get inside before we catch our death of cold."

Alex leads his squadron into a nearby building. As soon as they enter, all four snap to attention. "Lieutenant Stark, Second Lieutenants Nagase and Davenport, and Airman First Class Grimm, reporting."

The sergeant at the desk looks up at them, returning the salute. "The C.O. is in the ready room along with most of the flight and ground crew. When they heard that the 'Four Wings' would be here they arranged for a welcome." He stands up and points down a hall. "There are quarters for you this way. Showers and some fresh clothes waiting. Unfortunately there are only two rooms available, but since it will probably only be for the night it shouldn't be a problem."

The pilots follow him, looking at each other. Quietly, Grimm speaks up first. "How are we going to pick who gets which room?"

"Sounds like something for the cap'n, if y'ask me," Chopper glares accusingly at his flight lead. "Well, Kid?"

Alex shrugs. "Figure the easiest is to stick to elements. Sorry, Grimm, but you'll have to continue to endure Davenport's snoring." Kei and Grimm's laughs are nearly drowned out by Chopper's indignation.

The sergeant shows them the rooms; plain double dormitories with simple bunk beds and a shared bathroom. On each of the beds is a pair of fresh shirts, socks, and skivvies.

"Well, in the spirit of being gentlemen, Chopper, Grimm, and I will find one of the locker rooms to shower. Bathroom's all yours, Kei." Alex grabs a stack of white cloth and walks out.

"And they say chivalry is dead."

Alex laughs. "Speak for yourself, Chopper. I just don't want her to waste all the hot water."

* * *

Greetings and salutations, faithful reader.

Sorry it has been so long since the last chapter was posted. I guess I've been preoccupied. I've gone back through the story and corrected a few mistakes I found. Nothing major, I think. You may have noticed that I skipped Operation "Whale Bird." Never fear, I didn't technically skip it. We will be seeing it, just not quite from the perspective many might expect.

I have every intention on finishing this version of the story. The problem is that there are still 22 missions left to cover, plus select cut-scenes and original content. None of this should be a surprise, really. I plan to post the chapter about them fleeing Sand Island before July (fingers crossed).

As always, enjoy reading and send me a review or comment.

-Soter


	19. Chapter 19

Less than half an hour later, four reasonably clean pilots enter the main ready room of Heierlark Air Force Base. Their flight suits still need a wash, but they are at least dry.

Inside the ready room waits the entire class of trainee pilots and most of the ground crew. A trio of tables stand opposite the door, food piled high. Another table has a selection of drinks. At the end of the room, standing next to the fireplace, is General William Harmon, the superintendent of the base and a pillar of Air Force training.

A somewhat wiry man, Harmon had served with distinction during the "cold" years following the Second Great War, leading the 6th Air Force as it guarded the Eaglin Straits and surrounding area. He was called out of retirement specifically to lead the training center at Heierlark. Every nugget to fly in the Osean Air Defense Force in the last decade had spent time in the hallowed and cold halls of Heierlark under the watchful eye of "Hub" Harmon.

The general nods at the four pilots as someone in back raps their mug against a table. "Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to the Four Wings of Sand Island!" There are chuckles at the mention of warm, followed by applause, drumming of tables, whistles, and cheers.

Chopper, in true form, waves, shakes hands, and accepts accolades as he leads his wingmates towards the fireplace. Grimm tries to stealthily follow in his shadow, but is called out by a few acquaintances. Stark and Nagase follow, both a bit overwhelmed by the welcome.

Harmon, and a number of instructors and leading enlisted personnel, shake hands with the pilots.

"I believe that this collection of cadets would benefit from hearing about your experiences." The general's gaze focuses on Stark. In an instant it is obvious what he is suggesting.

"I think Second Lieutenant Davenport should tell everyone about what happened over the Eaglin Straits."

Chopper looks at Stark, surprised. "Really, Kid? You want me to tell the tale?"

Smiling, Stark nods. "Sure. You've got the right dramatic flare to make it interesting for this crowd."

"Where should I start?"

"Eaglin," Nagase nearly whispers. "Start with Eaglin."


	20. Chapter 20

"It was noting. Easiest mission in the world. That's what it was supposed to be." Chopper stands near the fire, surrounded by cadets, like a coach giving his team a pep-talk. "It wasn't just us, but everyone they could get their hands on."

Grimm stands to his wingman's right, back to the fire and arms crossed. Nagase stands opposite him. Stark hangs back, next to the general. For the moment, this is "motormouth's" show.

"General mobilization. Our planes filled the sky like a huge aluminum cloud." Chopper waves his hands over his head, as if warming up to use them to show as well as tell the story.

"There was no way the enemy could attack." Unnoticed by the cadets, but not by Stark or the general, Chopper cringes a bit at that pre-mission boast of higher ranking officers. The general turns to the lieutenant.

"Someone thought it was a cake-walk, then?"

Stark nods. "Yes, sir. Had they actually considered the threat, there would have been a greater patrol present, and the carrier wings would have been aloft to bolster our numbers from the start."

"The queens of the ocean made it to the inland sea," Chopper continued, ignoring or oblivious to the conversation behind him. "We've got it made in the shade now."

Stopping, he looks at Nagase, then Grimm, the Stark out of the corner of his eye. "Or so we thought."


	21. Chapter 21

Rendezvous

30 September 2010

Eaglin Straits, Osean Federation

* * *

"It started with the usual 'hurry up and wait.' We had a full missile load on our Vipers, so we were getting pretty close to the end of our fuel. We had enough for another hour of flying, but not enough to get back hope without topping off. The tanker was supposed to be on the way when everything went sideways.

"'Permission to return to your assigned basses in sequence.' We'd worked with Thunderhead before, so we all knew that meant we'd be last. We were the only "pure" fighter squadron there, so we had to stick around to cover everyone else. You'd think that defending three carriers would be important enough to send a couple of Eagle squadrons or at least a couple Raptors, but no. All we had were our F-16s, a quartet of Tigers, two A-10s, and six Phantoms, of which two were Weasels.

"At least the carriers had a squadron of Tomcats each, but someone higher up denied them permission to sortie. Which seems crazy, since the Navy seems to like flying in sloppy weather like we were having. Our radar was spotty, like someone had dumped a bunch of chaff about six miles out. Weather report said that everything was socked in, from Heierlark to Sand Island, all the way to Oured. I wasn't looking forward to the flight home. Never liked flying in murk. And I made sure the AWACS knew it.

"About that moment Kid's," Chopper gestures back to Stark, "I mean, Lieutenant Stark's 'Spidey Sense' musta tingled or he felt something in the Force or maybe the Ghost of Christmas past flicked his ear." The cadets, Grimm, and Nagase laugh. Stark smirks at the irreverent pilot. "He ordered us to spread out in a combat patrol formation.

"At that moment, I thought my radar had picked another 'ghost' in the clouds. We'd had a few false alarms during our patrol, so I called it in, just in case. But Grimm had it too.

"Blaze called for us to pitch up and meet the threat. Soon we could see the green bellies of Yuke Navy fighters, specifically Yak-38M Forgers, at about 18,000 feet. How Thunder-blockhead missed a pair of super short-legged jump jet fighters from his perch at 30,000 I'll never know.

"Edge got the first kills, a quick 'in the face' Sidewinder snap for one, then a guns burst for the other. As the dead planes tumbled down we saw they had two Kerry anti-ship missiles. Forgers aren't known for being good at lifting any payload, especially on hot and humid days. But the cool temps of the Eaglin Straits was perfect for them.

"Since their short ranged, Blaze had us split up. He and Edge went east, while Archer and I went west. While I scanned the sea for any sign of a Yuke flattop, Archer kept his eyes up for more forgers.

"Two more Forgers were to the north of the strait, so Archer and I angled in on them. While we blasted them with AMRAAMs, Edge and Blaze tangoed with three about fifteen miles ahead of the ships.

"A couple got through the net and dumped some bombs on one of the carriers, I don't remember which one."

"It was the Buzzard," Nagase said.

"Thanks. Anyway, at this point, Blaze called us up Four MiG-29K were converging on the Kestrel. Archer and I salvoed two Slammers each, taking out one pair, while Edge got another with her last Sidewinder. Blaze went and got into a rolling scissors with the last one, finally sliding behind him at less than twenty yards." Chopper puts his hands back-to-back, palms facing out and slowly draws one behind the other. "One half second burst and its over." He makes a fist.

"Except it wasn't over. Call came in that there was a flight of three Fulcrums, possibly armed with anti-ship missiles. We formed up and blasted at them. What bothered all of us was that they were east of us. No one said anything about a Yuke carrier that far inside Osean territory, and there was no where else for them to come from.

"Three Switchblade missiles passed beneath us before we even got within range. Two more were launched right as we got locked on. I launched my last AMRAAM, as did Archer, but we had targeted the same MiG. Pretty sure mine hit a second before his. Blaze clawed in close and sniped one with his last Sidewinder. The last one, realizing the numbers were against him, quickly turned into us and latched onto Edge's six. Blaze snapped around, calling for her to break right. He cut inside the MiG, pumping rounds into the right wing." The tempo of his hand-dance picked up, weaving back and forth in a replay. "The Yuke tried to snap away, but his wing wouldn't let him. Blaze was on him like white on rice. Another burst took off the MiG's left tail, then engine.

"Thunderhead called for us to head back to the carrier, saying the tanker was coming soon. If I was the tanker, I wouldn't be anywhere near the carrier, not with MiGs flying around.

"Just then, we hear the warning that a ballistic missile is inbound. We were a good twenty-five miles from the carriers, but Blaze called for us to climb. Ballistic missile's aren't usually used to kill planes, but no reason to take chances.

"Someone later reported that it was launched from near our position. Everything around the carriers took damage, except, somehow, Kestrel. We heard the call to climb to above 5,000 feet, and kept climbing just in case."

The cadets had gone quiet. They'd no doubt already heard the results of the battle.

"The only undamaged planes were ours and a Navy Tomcat. Only Kestrel survived the attack."


End file.
